


all of which makes me anxious at times unbearably so

by pluvieux



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8237842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluvieux/pseuds/pluvieux
Summary: gorillaz has been, is, + always will be one of my top favourite bands. looking hella forward to the new album thoughi feel like an empty vesseltoo many of nights go by restless. i thought i broke this habitmy ankle hurts





	

my entire body is cold  
every time i look outside, my eyes confuse the sleepy residue with rain  
even though i haven't slept + probabyl won't anytime soon now  
my body bleeds silently + i wonder if maybe this time,  
it'll be enough for it to drain

i've given up on finding pieces of me in any peaceful place  
i know they're all jagged  
i haven't found a single, soft flower petal

the kind you rub your finger on,  
feeling how soft it is  
then you rip it off,  
with a "he loves me not"  
\+ full confidence in that.

it looks like there's a tea bag on a branch, but i know it may just be wood

hitched breath,  
but unlike my previous selves,  
my release is not obstinate but instead  
i whimper a little bit, a desperate intake

\+ my father is angered by the red around my eyes,  
the red tarnishing my nose  
instead of trying to apply warmth to my sickly skin  
he yells + kicks it all around,  
because he's older, he's in charge,  
\+ he can do it, + he knows it

when one parent decides a child is worthy of being repudiated  
they will turn to the other  
but when i turn the other cheek, all i feel is nothing  
but the freezing wind of a cold shoulder

it's embarrassing to admit that no,  
i am not an orphan  
but my father + my mother will not give me time  
nor love  
nor praise  
nor focus

\+ by my father's sting, i've decided i'm better off without him at all  
but, shamefully, i yearn for my mother's touch + words  
although i know nothing of her or her whereabouts  
i know that i should at least know who she is today  
\+ not as she was so many poems ago

because my grandparents have a heavy burden  
that's anchored down by my brother + i  
\+ all we can do about it is wait  
\+ hope that there's still a good amount  
of sand left.

there's nothing here for me  
talking in my sleep,  
i woke up to hear myself say,  
"granny,"

\+ for quite some time, i've gotten a head ache  
i'm finding myself getting more judgmental of my poetry  
embarrassed, even

i've started this out alone, with no one reading it  
but now that i've introduced it to one, i'm worried  
no matter if he reads it  
or if he doesn't

i worry what he thinks  
i worry that he doesn't even care to read it

either way, it's giving me a lump in my throat  
as he has so many time ago but in a different way  
in the way where someone looks at you,  
\+ you forget exactly the words you were going to say  
\+ you get to grab their face  
\+ kiss him

over the phone, all i hear is desperation + a thread of hope,  
of "maybe" + nothing special,  
i hang up, hearing a different voice in some time  
\+ the feeling of discomfort begs to call another

but i won't give in to time + neither will he, i think  
because you don't create time, you make it

\+ i know you're done  
i saw it before you hid it  
i have a theory that you hid it so i wouldn't see it

but theories are just theories + it could be wrong  
but i know  
i know

i do not trust you + i feel that i shouldn't have,  
but i loved you even though you've proved yourself  
to not be pristine over + over  
\+ not in the good way

that first night, when you knew exactly what was wrong,  
because you knew it was wrong  
\+ your story changed three times,  
four including the other telling me the other day  
\+ it tore me up, only giving fuel to my insecurities 

i am nothing in comparison to my friends,  
\+ i love to be reminded of it

if you want to break my heart  
stay right where you are  
or don't

whether you reach out to me,  
my heart will jump into my throat + when it drops once more  
it'll hurt twice more

\+ whether you don't,  
my heart will only sink further  
with my expectations + hopes

i've never disliked the number eighteen so much  
but i'll be back to loving it as soon as my father's eyes meet mine

\+ i know that my eyes weren't meant for blue ones cloaked with death  
with depression

my father is not strong,  
\+ i'd feel bad for him,  
if not for the lingering thoughts of me  
cheering him on for those razors  
that my granny + i found

i'd feel bad for him,  
if not for the marks he moves from himself to me

because he sees his false lover in us  
\+ my mother sees her second hand lover in my half-brother  
\+ my mother sees her second hand lover every morning

but how would i know that  
if not for stalking her facebook + twitter page every so often  
if not for the stubborn attitude i have of

if they wish to talk to me  
they will

because i've spent too many times sending paragraphs, spamming, worrying, caring  
because i've spent too many times giving more than i get

\+ if i were to be tired of it from my own mother after countless emails,

why did i not tire of it my peers sooner?

i will pick myself up another day

**Author's Note:**

> i hate my writing but i like to at least feel like i've accomplished getting something out in some way
> 
> kms


End file.
